


Caged Bird

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Power Dynamics, bottom!Jensen, completely unrealistic portrayal of prison nursing, nurse!Jensen, prisoner!jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, every time that Jared ends up under Jensen’s care he’s always hand-cuffed to the bed. Not that he minds things a little on the kinky side, but he would like to be able to <i>touch</i> Jensen on occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged Bird

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Written for [](http://salt-burn-porn.livejournal.com/profile)[**salt_burn_porn**](http://salt-burn-porn.livejournal.com/) for the prompt _handcuffs_. First off, HAPPY BIRTHDAY [](http://wendy.livejournal.com/profile)[**wendy**](http://wendy.livejournal.com/) ♥ ♥ ♥ I hope it was wonderful and everything that you wanted—have some Jared in handcuffs and an offering in the name of your amazingness :D Secondly, epic thanks to [](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/profile)[**sleepypercy**](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/) for her immense help including, but not limited to: ideas, cheerleading, and beta-ing. And sorry [](http://alycat.livejournal.com/profile)[**alycat**](http://alycat.livejournal.com/) I could not get Jensen into a sweater-vest this time around.

“There’s new meat in the infirmary,” Jared’s cell mate, Chad says after lights out.

Jared’s restless this evening; he’s got an itch winding its way through his insides that’s begging to be scratched. To fight, to screw. To fucking _live_. It doesn’t stop until it’s lodged so deep in his brain that he knows he’s going to give in tonight. Jared wonders vaguely if there’s a full moon outside. It’s possible. It’s also equally as probable that it’s been too damn long since he’s had any fun. He’s been trying to stay on the straight and narrow—keep his head down, do his time, and get out of the system.

As a coping mechanism, smoking only goes so far. It doesn’t even _touch_ his primal needs.

“Oh yeah?” Jared asks, keeping his voice nonchalant. “What’s she like? Blonde and cute, just like the last five we’ve run through.”

“Nah, it’s a guy.”

“Ugh. Exactly what we need in a fucking prison of four-hundred men: another goddamn male.”

Chad laughs. “Wait ‘till you see him, Padalecki. The kid’s got the best lips I’ve seen in a long time. Better than any of the nurses we’ve got right now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Nice ass, too. I’d tap that.”

That’s really all the information Jared needs. Challenge—accepted, so to speak. In the name of investigation. And _science_ , of course.

“Care for a fight?” Jared asks. It’s not really a request. Chad knows this by now, he’s suffered more than his fair share of bruises at Jared’s hand.

“Seriously? Thought you were trying to get out on good behavior?”

“If you get off your bunk right now, I’ll go easy on you,” Jared offers.

The thought of not suffering a fractured skull must sound enticing, because Jared hears the bed squeak as his cell mate hops down from the top bunk.

“You’re a son-of-a-bitch,” he says, right before Jared throws the first punch, carefully avoiding Chad’s nose. It doesn’t need breaking for a third time. Then Jared feels Chad’s knuckles come in contact with his forehead six fucking times before his vision blacks out. Motherfucker.

\--

Upon awakening, the first thing Jared tries to do is sit up. That’s of course, when he realizes that he’s hand-cuffed to both sides of a decrepit hospital bed. It’s not any better than the one in his cell, except that it’s probably more likely to harbor scary shit—like HIV, or Ebola. Even locked on the inside, Jared’s heard whisperings.

“Hi Jared, I’m Jensen and I’m going to be your nurse today,” a voice says, bringing Jared out of his stupor. “Sorry about the cuffs.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he replies sarcastically as the nurse places a blood pressure cuff over his inked arm, and proceeds to cut off Jared’s blood supply to his fingers.

Chad was absolutely wrong. Jensen isn’t as pretty as any of the female staff; it’s not even a competition. There are guys, and then there are _guys_. And Jensen definitely falls into the latter category. Jared takes in everything from how his black-framed glasses slide down his nose to the way his freckles cover his face.

“Really though, I’m sorry. I don’t like putting people in restraints. But security said you attacked your cell-mate unprovoked...”

Jared shrugs, “Full moon.” It’s as good as an excuse as any.

“Try waxing crescent, big boy.”

“You a nurse or an astronomer?”

“Who says I can’t be both?”

“Point,” Jared concedes.

“So, why’d you really hit your cellmate?”

“Heard you were new. Wanted to come say ‘hi’.”

“Very funny.”

It’s amusing how often people don’t believe the truth.

Jensen doesn’t ask him any more questions. Instead, he performs a few assessments and pointedly ignores the bulge in Jared’s orange jumpsuit. He listens to Jared’s heart and touches his body in all the wrong places to make sure all of his nervous systems are functioning before declaring him fit to return to his cell.

Tonight, not even the sound of Chad snoring deters Jared from spreading his legs and taking his dick into his hand. It’s not even possible to go slow—Jensen did all the foreplay for him with his long fingers and stethoscope—so Jared strips his cock, rolling his foreskin in quick movements until hips start to jerk in an uncoordinated rhythm. When he comes, it’s to the image of Jensen sucking down his dick, bottom lip pressed flush against his balls.

\--

 

Jensen happens to be working the next time that Jared winds up cuffed to the infirmary bed.

“You got a thing for violence, or a thing for handcuffs?” Jensen asks him when he walks in to the room.

“Maybe I got a thing for you,” he says.

“Jesus, Jared,” Jensen whistles, as he dabs the blood off his forehead. “You gotta stop accumulating head injuries. It’s not good for your brain you know. It’d be a shame to throw that away.”

Jared huffs out a laugh. “Say that again, and I might think you care.”

“I do.”

Jared looks away, but he’s rewarded when Jensen puts his hand on his arm. He traces the lines of Jared’s tattoos—he’s got full sleeves on both sides—flowers and birds in golds and reds mostly, framing the words _I know why the caged bird sings._ Just ‘cause he got himself landed in prison, doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate good poetry. Especially the type that’s applicable to his fucked-up life.

“I’ll have to get the color re-touched when I get out,” he offers.

“Yeah?” Even through the lenses of the glasses that Jensen’s wearing, Jared can see his pupils dilate.

“Yeah. Two short years. Less if I behave.”

Jensen snorts, even though his fingers slide underneath the short orange sleeve of Jared’s uniform, testing the firmness of his bicep and simultaneously making blood rush to Jared’s dick. It’s kind of sad how little it takes to get hard these days.

“You? Behave?”

“Hey, I’ve never given you any trouble, have I?”

“You’ve always been hand-cuffed to the bed.”

“True. Kinda kinky though, isn’t it? Both of us here in the middle of the night with me helplessly cuffed to the bed, and you able to take advantage in any way you wanted?” Jared licks his lips, making sure that they’re shiny with spit. He’s not above a little manipulation.

“That’s inappropriate, Jared,” Jensen says, but Jared can see the way that he’s filling out his scrub pants.

That’s inappropriate too.

“Come on, you want it just as much as I do.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Jensen,” Jared whines. “You can’t fucking leave me here. Not locked to the bed while you get to go jerk off in the bathroom. That’s torture.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Please?” Jared asks, “Just this once.”

“I can’t…”

“Jensen,” he says. “I stand on a grave of dreams.”

He watches Jensen look at the inscription on his arm and then place his hand over the orange fabric of his uniform right above where his cock is stretching the confines of the fabric.

“You have someone on the outside?” Jensen asks, even though his fingertips are already grazing the head of his dick. Jared squirms on the table, trying to push his hips towards Jensen.

“No.”

“What about on the inside?”

“And what? Risk Gonorrhea? Syphilis? HIV? Yeah, no. I’m more than happy with my right hand, thanks.”

“Good,” Jensen says, as he unbuttons Jared’s uniform. “How quiet can you be?”

Jared’s a good boy. He doesn’t answer as Jensen reaches inside and strokes his dick, hard and fast until he comes with a white spray across his stomach.

“Thanks,” he says, even though Jensen doesn’t offer to clean him up. Instead, he tucks Jared’s dick back inside, leaving him to walk back in his own mess.

\--

 

“I like dogs. Do you like dogs, Jensen?” he asks a few weeks later. Mutual interests are important, especially since Jared’s trying to get Jensen to fuck him.

This time Jensen’s stitching up a superficial knife wound across his stomach. He could have easily avoided it, Jared’s quick on his feet despite his size, but he’d heard Jensen was on duty. He’s kind of addicted to getting hurt while Jensen’s around to take care of him.

Jensen hadn’t even had the nerve to blush when he’d been marched in and unceremoniously locked to the bed.

“Yeah. I do. I got one at home right now.”

Good. Jared isn’t sure he could live with someone who wasn’t a dog person.

“I had one, you know. Before I came here anyways. She lives with my parents, now.”

“Glad someone’s looking after her. Look, I’ve seen you what, Jared? Four times now?”

“Five.”

“Alright. Five, then. And every time you come in, you smell like a fucking chimney.”

“And?”

“And you should stop smoking. It’s awful for your health and I can smell it on you from a mile away.”

“How exactly do you suggest I quit?”

“You could start by not putting a cigarette in your mouth.”

“Yeah, but you see, Jensen. I’ve got a bit of an oral fixation problem…”

“Jared,” Jensen warns, but they’ve already crossed this line. Passed go. Collected two-hundred dollars. Jared knows that this time, it’s going to be easier.

“C’mon. Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it since the last time. Wondering how my mouth, my ass would feel around your dick?”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “You bottom?”

Jared shrugs. “Baby, I’m man enough to admit I’ll like it any way you want to give it to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Jensen says, before he climbs on top of him.

“Mhm,” Jared hums as he rocks his hips up against Jensen’s. It’s fucking unfair that Jensen gets to run his hands over Jared’s arms, dip underneath his jumpsuit to rub his thumb over his collar bone. Jared wants to see just how small Jensen looks underneath his own hands. How Jensen’s skin feels against his fingers. Aside from his dick, the most nerve endings in his body are located right there, and it’s frustrating that he can’t use them. He wants his brain to catalogue every fucking inch of Jensen’s skin.

He stops thinking then, because Jensen leans down and follows every touch of his hands with his mouth, feeling and licking his way down Jared’s body. It’s goddamn hard to keep quiet when he can’t use his hands to show Jensen what he wants. Or where he wants him.

“I like how quiet you are,” Jensen mouths, just north of his navel. “Like that you can’t move, that you’re going to take whatever I choose to give you. Like that you _fight_ everyone else, but you’re a goddamn lamb for me.”

Jared thrusts his hips up against Jensen’s neck, savoring the harsh chafe of friction between them.

“Fuck me?” he asks, almost too quiet to be heard.

Jensen looks up at him from where he’s been nuzzling into Jared’s crotch.

“What’s that Jared?”

“Fuck me, please?”

Jensen looks down at his watch. “I got ten minutes. You think you can---“

“Oh hell yeah,” Jared interrupts. “But you’ll have to do all the work unless you want to unlock me.”

“Hah. As if.”

“Your loss,” he says, even though, really, it’s his too.

“I can deal with that,” Jensen says, as he pulls his light blue scrub pants down and moves up until his knees are bracketing Jared’s neck. Jared can feel the power in his thighs as Jensen feeds the tip of his dick into his mouth.

“Blow me, Jared.”

Jared does his best, even though it’s an awkward position, one that doesn’t allow for him to take more than half of Jensen’s length inside of him. He breathes in the musky, turned-on smell of cock, and savors the heat and firmness of Jensen on his tongue. Jensen’s dick isn’t in his mouth for nearly long enough when Jensen pulls out.

“What--?”

“I didn’t want to come in your mouth. I got better plans for us tonight.”

Jensen pulls a packet of lube out of his pocket—the kind that Jared’s sure is usually used to insert catheters—and Jared’s surprised when Jensen uses it to slick up not his own dick, but Jared’s, which he’s once again pulled out of his jumpsuit.

“What—?” he tries to ask again.

“Shh, you’ll see,” Jensen reassures him, before lining up Jared’s dick to his hole, and sinking down.

“Holy fu—“

“No talking, or I’m gonna get up and leave you to take care of this back in your cell.”

That shuts up him up immediately, so instead of mouthing off, he focuses on doing the only thing he can—thrusting up into Jensen.

It’s warm, and he’s wet—a mixture of his own precome and lube. Jensen’s hand comes down to steady himself against Jared’s rapidly rising and falling chest as he starts working his own dick.

“Love you like this. Underneath me, your huge cock inside of me.”

Jensen sinks down all the way at the same time that Jared thrusts up, and when he looks, Jensen’s split open, fully impaled on his dick, his rim stretched obscenely tight. He wants to tell Jensen that this is it, that Jensen’s fucking it for him, and god, if he had use of his hands, he’d slam the man down on his cock until he couldn’t walk straight for a week. Instead, he lets Jensen ride him, picking up speed, until he’s surprised that the bed doesn’t fucking collapse underneath their sweaty bodies.

With Jensen’s warm body around him, the rim of Jensen’s ass grasping tightly around his dick, it’s no surprise that he comes first. He keeps thrusting afterwards, chasing the bursts of pleasure that keep pulsing through his brain, aftershocks of his orgasm. Luckily, Jensen comes before he’s completely soft, leaving a mixture of sweat and come across Jared’s torso.

Jensen swipes a piece of sticky hair off Jared’s forehead, and a bead of sweat from his upper lip. Jensen doesn’t clean him up this time either. Just tucks his dick back inside, and buttons up his jumpsuit like there’s not come drying all over Jared’s body. Kinky fucker.

“Two years?” he asks Jared before the guards take him away.

“Less if I behave.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Hey. I can be a good boy when I want.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

\--

 

Jared doesn’t see Jensen after that. He tries to ask the other nurses, but they give him vague responses about switching jobs until he finally stops asking. He stops getting injuries, too. He tries to forget Jensen. To forget about his glasses and his stupid freckles, and the way Jensen’s come felt on his skin. It’s not worth it.

Not until the week before he gets out—a year and a half later—when he gets a package in the mail. There’s no return address, even though the words **Jared Padalecki** are written in neat, cursive writing. When he opens it, the book _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_ falls into his lap.

“What the hell, Padalecki,” Chad asks. “You suddenly into black feminist literature?”

Jared doesn’t even bother to respond. Instead, he skims through it, and right in the middle, straight at the center of the book’s heart are the words **Jensen Ackles** and an address.  



End file.
